


I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.

by Imhyperdearie



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Again sort of, Angst, As is Sherlock but not really, Gen, Greg's in it partially, Post!Reichenbach, Reichenbach, Reunion!fic, implied alcoholism, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 05:54:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imhyperdearie/pseuds/Imhyperdearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's been receiving weird texts on Sherlock's mobile phone that he couldn't bring himself to get rid of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.

*ping*  
"I saw you in the street today. You didn't see me.  
-Unrecognised"

 

John stared at the phone momentarily, holding his breath. It had been three years. Three years and he still wasn't ready to throw the damn thing away.

-2 years earlier-

The mumbles and grumbles of his fellow patrons were slowly being dulled by the comforting hand of the golden devil.

 

*ping*  
"Stop.  
-Unrecognised"

 

In his alcohol-addled mind the blonde haired man draped miserably over the bar stool glared at the offending piece of technology. Just over a year ago it had belonged to- to someone else. And now it was in his possession, he was receiving messages. Blurringly he brought up the address book and scrolled through until he found the name he was looking for.  
"Gr- Greg?" he hiccuped.  
"John? John is that you? It’s almost midnigh- are you drunk?"  
"Stop- stop texting this number."  
"What? Jo-"  
He ended the call with a vicious jab of his finger and flopped onto the bar.  
"Listen here, mate, I'm going to have to cut you off. Hey, are you listening?"  
He pushed away from the bar, stumbling over the stool and headed for the door, “HEY! WAIT! YOU FORGOT YOUR PHONE!"  
*ping*  
"Thank you.  
-Unrecognised"  
The bartender stared at the incoming texts with confusion.  
*ping*  
"Please do ensure this phone is returned to John H. Watson.  
-Unrecognised"  
*ping*  
"I won’t ask twice.  
-Unrecognised"

-Now-

Still staring at the text he’d just received he searched his memory desperately for where he recognised that line. With startling clarity he was taken back to a case a few years prior. A case which very nearly destroyed them -him. Tempted to throw the phone against the nearest solid surface he let out a shuddery breath and tensed, ready to aim.

*ping*  
"I'm not dead. Let’s have dinner.  
Angelo’s, 5 minutes. Don’t be late.  
-SH"

The phone lay in two and the cane against the doorway, his adrenalin fuelled footsteps thundering down the stairs.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not my first fanfic I've ever written, however it is the fist I have posted to AO3.  
> I hope you enjoyed it, and please leave any constructive criticism/other comments in the comments section below.  
> Thank you :)


End file.
